Surprised and Touched

November 9, 2012

A fellow team member and GE Proud member requested a short meeting with me a while back.  That meeting took place today.  Although I was somewhat curious as to why he asked for the time, my curiosity was outweighed by my busy-ness.  As we sat in the conference room this afternoon, he proceeded to tell me that after 37 years, he was being let go – his position was eliminated.  I immediately felt awful and expressed my sadness to him along with my sincere offer to help him in any way that I could.  To my surprise, he didn’t want to talk at all about himself; he wanted to thank me and commend me for the work I’ve done in making GE Proud a reality as well as last year’s GE participation in Pridefest.  He wanted to reassure me that I’m doing good work and that change is taking place and that I should continue.  Being around my own age, he reminded me that in “our day” such things would never have even been thought about in the workplace.  He also reminded me that back in January when his long-time partner passed away, his supervisor told him to expect to have the same bereavement that a legal spouse would have.  Trying to fight back the tears, I kept trying to bring the conversation back to him and his situation, but he kept bringing it back to me and GE Proud and change.  How touching his unselfishness and his hopefulness was!  I’m still brought to tears when I think about the conversation.  I will miss him.

Last Christmas Tree

Nov. 21, 2012

My uncle “Chubbs” or “Snoopy” as many knew him, was the only real father I ever knew.  December 15, 2012 will be 10 years since he passed away from Pancreatic Cancer at the age of 64.  During the weeks and months preceding his death, though tragic, there were many things for which I was grateful.  Perhaps most of all, I was grateful for the opportunity to be present and be there for him as he was dying – to be able to give back for the many things he had given me, for the knowledge and wisdom he imparted on me, and for the values he instilled in me.  I will always be grateful for these things – so many of which shaped me into the person I am today.

I remember after Thanksgiving that year, 2002, we had planned to go together and get the Christmas tree me, my sister, my aunt and Chubbs.  It had been years since my aunt and uncle had gone through a lot of trouble with a Christmas tree.  Most years, if they put a tree up at all, it was a 4ft pre-decorated, artificial one.  But this year, this year was special and time was of the essence.  Everyone including Chubbs knew this would be his last and so we wanted to go all out. 

The day we were to go get the tree, Chubbs was too sick and weak to go.  Upon his urging, we went without him and picked out a beautiful 6+ foot tall tree – a spruce, as that was his favorite.  We brought it home and got it into the stand as quickly as possible.  In the back of all of our minds the question of when we would lose him circled around and around.  Would he still be with us at Christmas?  “No” I thought, “He won’t” and I shuddered at the thought.  But he was so sick.  He was so weak and he looked so bad.  Thanksgiving was an event for him and it took so much out of him even as he tried to pretend it hadn’t.

We began digging through the boxes of lights and ornaments that hadn’t been opened in years.  We took a walk down Memory Lane and discovered things that had been long forgotten.  We reminisced about Christmases past the whole time we were decorating.  We all laughed and talked and for a short while, the elephant in the room disappeared.  Chubbs sat in his chair the whole time digging through the boxes and handing us the ornaments to put on the tree.  The whole time Frank Sinatra’s Christmas music was playing in the background.  We laughed, too, as we put the annoying musical bells he loved (and everyone else hated) so much on the front door.  In the face of something so devastating, we managed to find a small window of joy. 

When we finished the tree, Chubbs sat back and said, “I think that’s the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen.”   Silence and tears ensued.  Ten years later, I can still hear those words coming from his mouth – in his voice.  I still cry because it was such a beautiful moment.  I know he said that to make us feel good and to express the beauty, not only of the tree, but of the experience that we had just shared together. 

Chubbs did not make it to Christmas.  He died December 15 at home as he wanted to.  As me and my Aunt Jude watched him take his last breath, there was something almost magical about it - a lightness from finally being released from the pain.  I am grateful to have known him.

Deeply Disturbed

Last Saturday evening, while strolling down Commercial Street in Provincetown, MA, enjoying my double-scoop chocolate ice cream cone and minding my own business, I came across a situation that left me deeply disturbed.  As I walked toward the west end of town, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, an elderly woman lying in the street across from me.  She, too, had been eating ice cream and had somehow fallen into the street.  I didn't see her fall, I only saw her lying there.  Oddly, it took a couple of seconds for it to sink in before I ran across the street to offer my assistance.  As I lifted her out of the street, I couldn't help but notice that it was as if she were invisible - of all the people in the streets and working in the shops, etc., no one else even noticed she had fallen and no one else came to help.  Even more disturbing were the 2 guys that yelled, "I've fallen and I can't get up" and giggled as they rode past on bicycles.  The woman was horribly embarrassed and expressed her gratitude over and over again, and even though she limped off, she insisted she was fine.  

This incident left me deeply disturbed.  I'm not sure exactly why.  Was it because no one else seemed to notice or care?  Was I shocked that someone could find such sick humor in another's misfortune?  Was it perhaps because I was painfully aware, at that moment, of my own aging process (having turned 49 recently and having had a very difficult time with it) and how I would hope, if I were lying in the street, that someone would come to my rescue and not make fun of me?  It was likely because of all of these things and the notion that having vacationed in P-town for over 10 years, I've found it to be a magical place.  It's not a microcosm of society at large.  Culturally, it's different - tolerant, expressive, non-discriminating.  Provincetown is not just about being gay, it's about being yourself - whoever that may be.  Maybe I'm living in the land of make-believe, but I simply didn't expect this type of behavior there.  

I Was Born....

The Storm

Those who know me, upon seeing the title of this post are probably thinking, "oh no, here we go with Michael telling his life story again."  Not to worry, however, the title is really just a way for me to start.

I'm new to this blogging thing.  I was given the idea a week or so ago by a very good  friend of mine who sent me someone else's blog to read.  It was well-written and interesting and it gave me the idea.  You see, I've always enjoyed writing and for some reason, I always seem to have a lot to say.  This blogging thing, and my desire to write and my mind that never stops, is a marriage made in heaven!

I've been thinking about it for a while and trying to figure out how and where to start.  So today, amid the news stories and TV specials regarding the hurricane that will soon make landfall on the east coast - Hurricane Sandy, referred to as "Superstorm," "Frankenstorm" - I begin.  As I'm sitting here listening to the rain as it pounds on the roof of my (so far) dry house, it occurs to me that this might actually be a pretty serious storm.  Writing now is a nice diversion to what's going on outside.....